#depulsostarter

[pctterprongs]

Where: 6th Floor corridor With: James & Anyone

Footsteps had taken him further from the meeting than anyone else. Time to process, think things over. This year had been a year of firsts. Lily calling him James more than just Potter. Dumbledore being drunk off enough spiced rum to give him the Head Boy position, one surely more suited to the likes of Remus, Frank Longbottom--Edgar Bones would do a well enough job if the poor sod wasn’t so interested in his reflection. No. Things changed. People--he was still unsure of. He was on high alert--something unintended. Nose spent more in a book as of late, learning defensive spells. What for--who knew. Where he planned to be was fully out there, fighting for what was right. A scuffle of footsteps fell behind him, as James raised his wand. “Who’s there?” He called out.

[antonindolohcvs]

Where: Slytherin Common Room, 9:14 pm. With: Antonin Dolohov & Any death eater. 

“Professor, surely you don’t think I've forgotten where the Common Room is...” Antonin’s voice trailed off, falling into stride with the former head of his house. A Cheshire cat grin on his lips, casual approach as Hoarce Slughorn moved beside him, huffing and puffing in kind from the slyth man he once governed over as Head of Slytherin.

“Nonsense, m’boy, I’d happily show you tonight. Dumbledore can’t help the curosity of former students wanting to see their homes when returning to come protect the school.

“Ah--but he’s considered a great man for a reason, is he not, Sir?” That felt like a white hot poker, shoved down his throat at the idea of complimenting that ancient bastard.

It was only a nod, a whispered password, as his ears perked. Facta, non verba. Antonin smiled, being escorted inside, and suddenly a sigh of relief escaped him. “It’s just the same, sir.” He whispered, a nostalgic sense to his voice--or so it sounded. Mostly, it made him sick. 

“I’ll leave you too it--when you’ve done nosying about, I’ll be in my office with a Oak Matured Mead, come join me for a drink.”

Antonin nodded, keeping the easy-going grin until Slughorn finally disappeared. Bodies filtered in and out, as he fell gracefully onto the plush leather couch, as he was finally left alone. “It’s like I never left.” He whispered. Propping his ankle on his knee, one arm rested on the back length of the couch, as the resolve to be happy fell. 

The portrait opened, as Antonin’s dark stare settled in. “Well, well well. Look who it is. How kind of you to grace me with your presence.”

[remoonusarchive]

When: November 6th, 2.37 am Where: Outside the Room of Requirement Who: Remus && Order Member

It wasn’t much they didn’t already know but Remus knew it had been important for them to have a meeting to bring them together. To establish those who had joined their side since the last time they met and remind them of who they could trust. They could congregate and compare notes on their suspicions. “What do you think?” he asked when they were out of the room where Dumbledore had delivered his message. He wanted to gather thoughts and opinions; take some time to listen, absorb and collate information.

[longbottomsfrank]

Where: Halloween Party With: Frank & Anyone

Frank had put off heading down to the party for the viable reason that he simply didn’t want too. Costumes were fun, certainly, dressing up as someone you loved or admired shed some goodness. But the weight of everything was waning on them all. Perhaps he worried too much. Perhaps fear of the unknown was a suffocating thing in itself. As a member of the Order of the Phoenix, he knew he was doing something right. But it didn’t mean there wasn’t an uneasiness settling around him from the last party--as though something said ‘stay in your bed, go to sleep, Longbottom’. Not that he hadn’t stumbled, fallen off it like his legs didn’t work and still manage to dress himself, all while being able to hide the goose egg on the back of his noggin. Now, moving into the clearing, he didn’t waste time--heading right for the refreshment stand, as he juggled the lemons in his hand. Pausing to set them down, he plucked a singular one up, a boyish grin against his face. “Lemon for your thoughts?”

[warring-walden]

where: The Forbidden Forest when: October 31 1977 who: Walden MacNair and Anyone  

“How am I not cold? Good question.” Walden’s lips tugged into a wicked grin. He’s been hoping that someone would ask anything about his costume. He didn’t want his effort to go to waste. Even with magic, it took him hours to dye and attach all those... feathers.

He had to admit his costume was a bit too flashy, even for him. But who doesn’t want to show-off once in a while? Besides, recent events have convinced him that there was a cause for celebration. Now that he stood bare-chested, wearing skinny jeans and his pair of black wings, complete with a levitating halo above his head, he wanted to flaunt. 

“See this?” Walden used his finger to wipe whatever it was that coated his torso. At first look, one would think that his chest was oiled up, giving his ivory skin a glossy look. But the thing that come off his chest and stuck to his finger was more gel-like. Already he can feel the tincture having its effect on his finger. “Made this out of Fire-Seed and Lavender.” Playfully, he seemed to offer his chest and added, “Do you want to touch it?”

[cresswelld]

When: 7th November Who: Dirk && open

Ravenclaw had needed that win. Dirk had needed that win. After weeks in a dark place of guilt and fear and anxiety, he finally felt happy about something. He was tired from a hard game and bruised from injuries sustained but exhilaration ran through his veins in the form of adrenaline. “Good game, wasn’t it! It was a shame about the Snitch but I suppose they can’t let a school game go on for hours and hours the way they would a professional match.” He clutched his ribs as he let out a carefree laugh -- he hadn’t been to the Hospital Wing yet. He was fine. It was just a bruise and it would heal by itself in time.

[marymacdonalds]

TIMESTAMP: tuesday, september 20th ( 11:37 pm )  LOCATION: hogwarts courtyard WHO: mary macdonald & anyone

She’d never been one to cause a stir, to make herself bigger than she ought to be. However, that was before –– this, well, this was now. It came with harshened consequences and yet the Gryffindor couldn’t find it in herself to keep it contained. As if a dark mark etched gently against her heart, permanent scarring from a moment of torment. Moments, she’d reminded herself. Hogwarts, it seemed, was not the first place to cause the girl to cry out in pain, to label her as some sort of stain on society before she’d even made a mark on the world itself. It was these thoughts, misguided and devious, that haunted her mind on evenings as quiet as this. When she’d found herself seated alone, comforted by only the sound of far off creatures howling throughout the forbidden forest. 

As if a ticking time bomb, she’d carried herself with a softened grace. To become a ghost was something of a second nature, to slink in and out of darkness as if it was the only place she’d call home. Quill aimlessly doodling upon her last sheet of parchment paper, her attention elsewhere until she heard the crack of a branch, the click of steps nearing. “I know, I’m out of bed –– let’s call it what it is and forget it.” It wasn’t the first, nor was it the last. It seemed as though it was the same old song and dance, tired vocals ringing through the dead midnight air. 

[superiorvanity]

WHEN: December 3rd, 2:13pm WHERE: Hogsmeade Village WHO: Emma & anyone

Winter nipped away at Emma’s cloak, barely held at bay by the heavy green fabric which clung to the girl’s frame as if it had been made specifically for the redhead. The promise of a hot drink made the Slytherin put a pause to her shopping, ducking into the Three Broomsticks. The pub was packed with fellow students and others who were out on that cold day exploring the village. Pulling the gloves from her pale hands, Emma made her way towards the bar when a rather inebriated man narrowly missed her on his way to the bathroom. Well, he would’ve ran straight into her if it wasn’t for the fact Emma looked up and stepped to side just in time. “Men,” the redhead spoke, eyes shooting daggers in the direction of the drunken patron.